


Trainwreck

by glimcold



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Secret Identity, Social Issues, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimcold/pseuds/glimcold
Summary: Wade just really, really wants to get laid this rut. Only problem is he wants to get pounded despite being a big, bad Alpha.Peter just really, really fucking hates Alphas that prey on minorities. In hindsight, he should have known it was Wade who posted this shit from the start - and wasseriousabout it.-Wade makes a post on a “dating site” that’s totally a cover for getting laid during heats and ruts. Peter (very innocently browsing said site) mistakes Wade for a bigoted Alpha that’s been posting fake profiles to corner gay Omegas and Betas - his post is just that absurd.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a general warning: there's not going to be excessive violence in this but... Deadpool... so suicide mentions, blood, foul language, etc. Also: Homophobia and prejudice involved in the A/B/O system. Probably some sexism, too.
> 
> This all sounds so heavy for such a fucking ridiculous fic, honestly... I just want to write about these idiots switching, I swear.
> 
>  _ **White**_ and _Yellow_

Part 0

This is a bad idea, and White tells him so at least a dozen times. Yellow is a little too distracted by all the pretty pictures this _Heat Matcher_ website is full of to say much of anything. Stock photos of smiling couples holding hands and kissing while backlit by the sunset. It’s selling the idea that somehow a heat-rendezvous will lead to love.

Typical _Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am!_ but with some love or romance in there somewhere. Maybe between the whamming and bamming. Or maybe that’s the thanking?

While part of Wade is laughing, the other part almost wants to believe it.

A bitch of an Alpha with a fucked face and a fucked body and a _fucked_ mind doesn’t get a fairytale romance. He should know this by now, especially considering how many of his lovers and partners have ended up dead. Even if a one-night stand or a friends with benefits sort of deal could possibly turn into an honest to god romance for a normal guy, Wade knows it’s not going to happen for him. That’s just common sense.

This is a fanfiction, though, so maybe he can let himself fall for the fantasy for just a little while.

_**Not a good idea.** _

_A great idea!_

Wade ignores them both and blazes on, cracking his knuckles over the keyboard before leaning in, preparing to make a drool-worthy profile. Gonna advertise his assets: thicc, nice teeth, nice tongue, butt ugly so you know he has to make up for it by giving good, lots of money, total Sugar Daddy material here, waterbed….

_**This isn’t a good idea.** _

“Wow, I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

_This is the best idea we’ve ever had!_

_**I think his approval speaks volumes. This is a terrible,** _ **terrible** _**fucking idea. Worst one we - no, no - fuck you - this is your idea not mine. Mine would be much better.** _

_The best!_

Wade ignores them harder. He knows this is a bad idea, and that’s why he’s doing it. Stupid ideas are sort of his thing, after all. Not to mention this is like suicide (social suicide?) and he does love a good knife to the heart (dick? balls? the dried up and shriveled emotions that he totally doesn’t have?).

( _ **What the fuck kind of bullshit-**_ )

If he’s going to go out, he’s going to go out swinging - or, perhaps more accurately, with a Beta puking on his shoes after an eyeful of his ugly mug - ooor maybe he’ll get lucky and he’ll at least get his cock out before any puking takes place; both are gross as fuck, both are puke-worthy. Details, details.

He hasn’t done anything like this since his stint in _Miss Victoria’s House of Alpha’s_ (real classy, real on the nose) when he was young, handsome, and every inch the Alpha. People actually _paid_ to fuck him he was so damn pretty. Despite that experience, he’s never been on this side of things, or doing it in such a mind-numbingly _legal_ way. No prostitution, no seedy shops, no wondering if you’re going to get a serial killer instead of a John. Pretty boring.

Just Alphas and Omegas getting hooked up with some willing Betas. So no pregnancy scares, either, he guesses. Only problem is, they need pictures of him. They want some sort of “dating” style thing to go on here, and he hasn’t dated since never.

_**It’s just a shady cover.** _

“Oh _my_ ,” Wade gasps, fluttering his lashes behind his mask and clasping a hand to his chest like a scandalized, southern lady. Unfortunately, the effect is lost to all but the boxes. “So maybe _not_ so legal. I’m liking this better already.”

Going through the pictures on his computer, he taps his chin, humming. Most of these are just of Ellie or Nessa. He has to go very far back to find any pictures of himself, at least ones where he’s not a mangled mess of flesh only in the picture for Ellie’s sake. Picking one where he has his arm slung around Vanessa, he crops it so only his face is showing and quickly uploads it to the site.

_**Asshole.** _

“What?” he drawls, moving onto writing his profile summary.

_**You’re going to make some poor sap think they’ll actually get to fuck someone attractive.** _

“Shut up,” Wade huffs. “It’s _me_ at least. I mean, I still have the cheekbones.”

The boxes both grumble and mumble in response, but he does his best to tune them out.

“How about ‘ _DP Daddy_ ’ for my screen-name. That’s cool, yeah?”

_**We aren’t getting laid.** _

“Pan… as… hell,” he murmurs, typing it up. “Love me… some… tits. Also… ass. Switch. Really, really want someone to fuck me, though. Ladies are welcome to peg me. Could really go for a big, buff, macho man right about now. Rut in just a few days. Please, oh please, step on me-”

_**Needy much?** _

_Tell them you’re good to stab._

_**No. God, no.** _

_They’re more likely to be up for fucking us if they know they can take out all that Alpha rage on another Alpha!_

_**No. N. O. No. This site isn’t even for Alpha-Alpha hookups, dumbass!** _

“Shh…. I’m going to get a handsome Beta or a kinky Alpha or an even _kinkier_ Omega to beat me up….”

_**Your masochism knows no bounds.** _

_The best idea! Think of all the handsome Betas who can fuck us into oblivion!_

_**The point is to fuck** _ **them** _ **.** _

“Wow, stereotyping much?” Wade counters.

_**It’s not my fault you’re a fucking terrible Alpha.** _

Wade chooses not to answer that.

“Okay…. That part’s done. Now… contact info….”

Someone clears their throat. Wade jerks his head up to find a barista awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in front of him. She looks really uncomfortable. Now that he thinks about it, most of the small coffee shop seems to look pretty uncomfortable. People have given him a wide berth and many are peering out of the corner of their eyes.

Taking all of this in, Wade sits back and scratches his ass. “So, uh, how much of that did I say out loud?”

The barista does not look amused.

“Aw, shit…” he mutters.

“Sir, while I appreciate that you purchased,” she wavers, glancing at the three muffins and two hot chocolates Wade has already gone through, then continues, “so much, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Right, right! Just-”

“Like, _right_ now.”

“But-”

Another employee has come to stand behind her. This one is wringing his wrists and shifting from foot to foot. Behind his glasses, his big ol’ eyes keep flicking from Wade’s mask to the floor beneath him. He has a cellphone in one hand. “Sir, I think you’re dripping… something on the floor,” he says, worriedly.

Peering down, Wade purses his lips. “Why, that I am!”

The woman looks disgusted. “What the hell?”

He grins apologetically behind the mask. “That… is not piss, just to clarify.”

“ _Sir-_ ”

“It’s blood.”

 

Wade practically bolts from the hipster-y, little coffee shop, laptop tucked messily into his Captain America bag strapped to his back. Yelling apologies to the poor girl who’s going to have to clean up after him, he hops around an old man and then a corgi, trying his best to get his ass out of there.

“I’m calling the cops!” she cries.

“I understand! Tell the chief I said ‘hi’ if you get the chance!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for me A/B/O is either hit or miss because of a bunch of heteronormative tropes often included in it... And here I am........ Trying to write A/B/O in a more.............. non-het way, I guess?
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@glimcold!](www.glimcold.tumblr.com) Also, more of my work is posted on [Patreon!](https://www.patreon.com/glimcold)
> 
> Feedback would be great! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbfuck. I told you this was a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos! It really means a lot!

Part 1

There’s a response.

It’s been only two hours since Wade posted his online profile, hoping to get some hot piece of ass to pound him into oblivion for his rut, and he’s already gotten a _response_. Wild.

Chewing his lip, he sits in the dark of his apartment and blinks up at the ceiling. The fan is droning because shit is New York hot (or maybe it’s the first prickles of his godforsaken rut, already beginning to set in a few days early as a cherry on top of this shitshow). He sort of assumed he’d post it then nothing would happen. Honestly, he’s not sure how to even go about dating anymore, let alone dating online, and he sure as hell isn’t sure how to casually hook up for a rut without needing to pay for it.

And there’s a _response!_ Already! A person already interested enough to contact his crusty ass!

_**Probably because you used that old picture, let’s be honest.** _

It’s so undeniably true that Wade doesn’t even bother denying it.

For a long moment, he stares at the screen of his phone. The email contains no further details than _New message! Login to reply_ , and part of him is thankful for it. He’s almost expecting some wisecrack about his skin despite there being no way anyone viewing his profile could know about it.

Then again, now that he thinks about it, maybe they could. Maybe the Avengers are still keeping track of him. Maybe Stark thinks it would be funny to poke some fun; after Wade told Steve he needed a new husband during that last team up, he was pretty pissed. Maybe someone (Weasel probably) just recognized him and is messaging to tell him to get a life and stop posting old pictures of himself on the interwebs ( _Ha! Webs!_ ).

_**Paranoid much?** _

Stomach knotting ( _Ha! Knotting!_ ), he shifts in bed uncomfortably and sits up to grab his laptop. He knows he’s going to need to type properly for this one.

While it boots, Wade wraps a blanket around his shoulders and punches his pillow, getting it nice and fluffed so he can tuck it against his chest. Sighing, he drags his thumb over the trackpad and clicks through to the website. Everything about this is stupid, and he probably should have listened to White, but what’s done is done. Here he is. Here the message is. Might as well look.

**James Smith has messaged you!**

He scratches the patchy beard just barely forming on his chin, wincing when he realizes he doesn’t have his gloves on so hello skin-to-skin contact.

( _More like scar-to-scar!_ )

_**Sure is a boring name.** _

_I bet he’s cute! I bet he’s a big, strong Alpha!_

_**You do understand this is for rut, right? We’re supposed to hook up with a Beta. You know,** _ **not** _**get the shit beat out of us by another Alpha or get some poor Omega knocked up.** _

Wade swats at the air next to his ear as if he can brush them away. He clicks the link to the man’s profile and pauses. The picture provided is of a pretty, plain blond with bright blue eyes. He’s a Beta, and apparently gay. His bio is sugary and romantic and it just makes Wade _bored_.

“What even is this?” he mutters, still scratching. “I said I wanted to be pounded. This guy’s a twink with an obvious boner for the typical romance. Probably watches _Bareback Mountain_ on repeat and cries about it - not that I’m one to judge, but-”

 _**Okay…. First off:** _ **Brokeback. Brokeback Mountain.**

 _Are you really complaining? He’s cute! He’s interested! Our rut is so close, who even_ cares _?_

_**No, he’s right. This is stupid. Why would he contact you? He obviously doesn’t want to be on top of anyone or anything. I mean, you did put switch, though.** _

_Now who’s stereotyping! So what if he’s a little on the smaller side? Vanessa was small and she could still fuck you into the mattress!_

“Shit, he’s right.”

_And what about Shiklah? She could whoop your ass, too!_

“Damn right.”

_And Siryn, too! She’d dom our dumb ass until-_

_**Okay, okay - I really don’t think the readers are interested in hearing about** _ **that** _**trainwreck.** _

_Name drop!_

“Alright, boys! We’re getting laid by a hot blond!”

He goes into the message, and falters.

**> Hello! I just saw your profile and thought we might be a good match! Would you like to chat?**

The boxes, for once, are quiet while Wade types up his response. Then he gets cold feet, deleting the whole thing, and they won’t shut the fuck up.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” he says, voice high and croaking. “It’s not high! Cut that line! It’s perfectly manly!”

_Not really!_

_**You sound like a goddamn teenager.** _

“Perfectly manly!”

_**We didn’t come this far for you to pussy out. Get your act together.** _

_Yeah!_

_**Fucking answer the twink.** _

_Yeah!_

_**If shit is going to go down, I’m not letting you halfass this thing.** _

_Yeah!_

Groaning, he types up the most reasonable message he can come up with. “Feels like I’m sweating bullets.”

_**If you could, it would save us a lot of money.** _

_There was that one time you shit a few out after the_ fun _with Deathstroke._

_**Why would you bring up that piece of shit now of all times?** _

That earns a chuckle, and Wade is just distracted enough that he doesn’t stop himself from hitting send.

< **hiya cutie whats a sweet thing like you doin single???**

_Wait, I just realized something…._

“Oh no….”

_**You? Realize something? Sounds fake.** _

_Do we have to pay him?_

… _**Um….**_

“No? I mean, maybe? Does it matter?” he grumbles, pouting at the picture of the man. “Y’know, I wonder what Spidey looks like-”

_**Here we go….** _

“Whaaat? It keeps me up at night!” Wade whines, poking around the man’s profile. “Bet he’s gorgeous. With an ass like that, you know God had to give him a pretty face.”

 _**If God is real, he’s a** _ **real** _**sick fuck.** _

_I’m not sure we can say - I mean, everything that’s happened to us is our writers’ faults, really._

_**And God made them so here we are, a manifestation of their fucked up nature.** _

Grunting, Wade pokes through the tabs on the profile that should lead to more pictures and more info, but instead he’s met with nothing. “Y’know… there isn’t a lot here….”

_Maybe he just made the profile?_

“Nah, it’s fake.”

_**Jesus Christ you’re paranoid.** _

“No, I’m serious. Besides! Who was against this shit from the start?”

Wade drags the photo of the man to another tab. Google does its thing and there they are: stock photos, of all things; they’re not even from a hot babe’s Insta.

( _I feel like a spy-haxxor-dude!_ )

“This guy isn’t real,” he says cooly, scrolling through the similar pictures that pop up. They’re all of the same man posing for some cheap photoshoot. He closes the tab and leans back, pressing his fingers to his eyes harshly.

Something dark settles in the pit of his stomach, twisting and churning. He’s itching for a knife - something that will make the pain go away.

_**Don’t tell me you got your hopes up….** _

When Wade doesn’t answer, the boxes stay quiet.

Returning to his messages, Wade stares at the dots at the bottom of the screen that indicates typing. “What’s the point of making a fake profile?” he asks, voice sharp.

_Maybe he’s like you! I mean ugly! Like you! So he uses a fake pic! Like you!_

_**Oh, the irony.** _

“Heeey… _yeah_! That’s right! Could just be a nasty fuck like me! Could’ve just made his profile, too!”

_**Pretty sure I saw a date on there that read he posted it three months ago. Plenty of time to add some actual detail to it.** _

“You’re just bitter!”

_We’re gonna get laid by an ugly fucker!_

_**No, you’re fucking stupid and you need to actually think before you jump into this. You already about shit yourself at the thought of being played - which is still a very real possibility! - and now you’re just going to continue with-** _

There’s a ding.

“Message!”

_**Goddamnit.** _

> **Haha you’re sweet! I could ask you the same thing, handsome ;)**

Wade shoves the computer back and hops off the bed, nearly tripping over his sheets but quickly righting himself before he’s sent sprawling headfirst into his sword stand. White chokes and berates him for it immediately, but he’s a little too distracted to care.

Giddy and full of energy. he’s itching to shoot something, but in a good way this time.

“Holy shit why haven’t I been online dating for years now?” he giggles a little wildly, a little too happily. “It’s perfect! I get to see dick pics and no one has to see my face!”

_**For fuck’s sake-** _

_Diiick!_

“No! Seriously! Imagine-”

His computer dings again and he twists around, belly-flopping onto the bed to see the message.

> **You like to bottom, yeah?**

Wade squeals like a girl, burying his face in the pillow.

_**Oh, geez….** _

_We’re getting laid!_

 

-

 

_**Did I mention this is a bad fucking idea?** _

He has - about ten times just today, actually - but Wade stopped fucking caring around the second time. He’s not really in the mood for Debby Downer to ruin this for him. He spent the last five hours making his apartment look presentable (cleaning up the takeout, scrubbing the blood stains, shoving his weapons in the closet) and his mood can’t be ruined. He’s going to have a nice dinner from _Toloache_ with this motherfucker he met online. Then he’s gonna wait a day for his rut and get fucked.

Okay, maybe he won’t wait. Why would he? Why _should_ he?

Sure, giving a stranger his address and inviting them over when he’s already sure they’re lying about their identity is probably not a great idea (not to mention he’s already clarified he’s all about bad ideas), but what’s the worst that can happen? If the guy is a creep, he’ll just kill him. Save the whole world a little bit of trouble. If the guy is a creep and stronger than him, he’ll just let himself be killed then come back and get a little revenge. If the guy is _actually_ cute, maybe there will be some puke on his carpet when the kid sees Wade’s face or something but no harm, no foul and he’ll at least have company for dinner.

_**You’re going to get us a stalker or some shit.** _

_Better than being alone forever!_

“There we go! Bright side to everything!”

Moving around the couch, Wade sets out the containers of _carne asada_ tacos and those cinnamon things he stopped to get from _Taco Bell_. Like the gentleman he is, he also snagged a rough-looking rose from a street vendor. He puts some water in an old can then slips the rose right in.

“Ah, yes…. A romantic dinner.”

_**We aren’t getting laid.** _

“Spoilsport.”

_**You just put a rose… in a fucking can… and then put that can on a table full of cinnamon twists and tacos.** _

“It worked for Nessa!”

 _**Vanessa was a piece of work just like you. And even she would have been freaked out if you had pulled this shit on your** _ **first date** _**.** _

_We did pull this shit on our first date._

“See? It’s all gonna be fine.”

_**You also paid for that first date.** _

Wade knows it’s not going to be fine. He wanted to do something nice even though this is just a hookup (if that), only problem is he’s not sure exactly how much is too much, especially considering the situation. More importantly, how honest is too honest?

Rubbing his jaw, he admires the packages of food and the rose. “This probably counts as _too_ honest.”

_Definitely._

_**You don’t say….** _

Cheeks hot, Wade groans and turns to look at the computer on the kitchen counter. Embarrassment tightening his chest, he pouts at it tiredly. “I should… cancel I guess.”

_**No shit.** _

_Nooo…._

“I don’t wanna…. I don’t know. I’m tired of looking like an idiot.”

_**Too bad you are one.** _

_But the ugly Beta…._

And, of course, that’s when the doorbell rings.

_**I fucking hate fanfiction.** _

_We’re getting laid!_

Wade rushes to the door, pathetically eager and lacking the sense he needs to be cautious. He pauses once there and straightens the button-down he put on over his suit before checking to make sure his mask and gloves are on. Can’t have the guy vomiting before he even steps inside.

With a deep breath, he opens the door.

Standing in front of him is a tall, lean kid. He’s got a hood drawn over his head but he peers out at Wade with big, doe eyes which quickly sharpen upon spotting the mask. Cheekbones that could cut, lips soft as all hell, and a jaw to die for - this kid has no reason to use a fake pic on the web and it’s a huge red flag.

_**No fucking shit.** _

After a moment, Wade sucks in yet another breath, intending to invite the pretty thing inside before he gets the sense to leave, but immediately kid is swinging his fist. He catches his wrist instinctually, but he can’t stop the kid from sweeping his legs out from under him, only roll with it and drag him down, too.

Wade lands hard on his ass, and the boy lands even harder on his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Full lips parted, he’s panting and his skin, pale as ivory, is going pink already. Up close, Wade can see the sprinkle of freckles so light they’re barely there on his cheeks and the dark edge around his irises and shit is he gay.

When he breathes in, the kid’s scent is so goddamn thick that he can _taste_ it - but the funny thing is he has no definable endotype. If he was on suppressants, he’d smell all baby-fresh like youngins before they present, but he doesn’t. He smells sharp like an Alpha but sweet like an Omega and subtle like a Beta. Wade is so goddamn confused he doesn’t think to grab the kid around his waist. It gives him the upper hand, allowing him to rear up.

Eyes dark and brow knit, he’s a fuckign sight to behold.

Wade is distracted, like the idiot he is, and it earns him a knee to the balls.

Wheezing, he arches his back as if to get away and chokes out, “ _Holy mother Mary of fuckin’ shit!”_

_**Dumbfuck. I told you this was a bad idea.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early access to the next chapter is available on my [page!](https://www.patreon.com/posts/trainwreck-3-wip-8212877) You can follow me on tumblr [@Glimcold!](https://www.glimcold.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You aren’t hallucinating.”
> 
> “Oh, did I say that out loud, too?”
> 
> “Nah, just sort of guessed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! This chapter is almost as long as the other two combined. In other words, I had way too much fun with this one.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you all for reading! Your responses make my day!

Part 2

There’s a gorgeous boy on top of him - one deceptively slim but actually thick with muscle and almost preternaturally strong - one that smells of Alpha, musky and acrid at the back of his throat with every breath he takes; but then of Beta, fresh and clean like rain on your skin, calming but disorienting; and finally of Omega sweetness and blood, toxically appealing in an almost nauseating way with his rut so close. Nose flared, he chases after the scent, breathing it in through parted lips, trying to catch it and settle on just _one_ , but he can’t.

Dizzily, he realizes there isn’t one to find.

Even as the kid thrashes and grinds his knee into his balls in a way that just isn’t as sexy as it could ( _ **And shouldn’t.**_ ) be, he’s sitting there, dumbstruck by his scent and steely eyes. He can’t look away, too caught up by the flush spreading over wicked cheekbones to be concerned about the state of his poor _cojones_. In all his years and through all the weird shit he’s experienced, he can’t say he’s ever met someone without a type.

_**You’re a fucking idiot. Do something before he gets bored of trying to punch your gut with those pretty hands of his and knees us in the balls again.** _

“But he’s so gorgeous,” he whispers back, watching as the boy’s eyes widen with confusion and fear. God, he’s precious like this and the scent of a challenging Alpha fills the air, rich and suffocating; baby boy isn’t going to let up, that much is clear. Wade groans before sighing, high on the endorphins and the instincts telling him to _fight_. It’s a rush like no other, his mind foggy with hormones and adrenalin and all those nice things.

The man stiffens and his scent grows thicker in the air. “Who are you talking to?” he demands, and his voice is scratchy and young, his breath insanely sweet.

Wade practically whines. “And the _smell_ ….”

_**He’s a fucking mutant, you dingus - why do you think he smells like that, huh? The point is, he might actually kill us.** _

_We can only hope…._

_**Well, that’s true. The only pleasure I’ll ever know is the sweet release of-** _

_Ooof this not-Alpha fucking us into the floor!_

**Death** _**. The sweet release of** _ **death** _**.** _

Before he can respond, pretty boy redoubles his efforts, throwing his whole body down to elbow the him in the stomach. Wheezing wetly, Wade mutters a few choice words. Still, his grip on pretty boy’s pretty wrist doesn’t waver.

“Hey, uh, you are the guy from the website, yeah?” he asks conversationally, pausing as the boy shifts to grind his elbow just beneath his ribs. It hurts, and the kid knows what he’s doing if only in a “I took a self defense class at my liberal arts college one time” sort of way, but any damage is too minor to keep him quiet for long. “I mean, I assumed but maybe I shouldn’t assume-”

The other man’s eyes go all steely (and sexy) again, and suddenly his hand is around Wade’s throat, the pressure there just barely enough to hurt. “Why were you luring people here?” His voice is dangerously even; Wade loves it. “Is anyone else with you?”

Staring up at him dumbly, Wade says nothing. He’s a little occupied with trying to follow the non-sequitur reasoning going on here. “Um, to-to get laid?” he says eloquently. “And no? I mean, just my neighbors, I guess. I don’t know.”

The look on the guy’s face is so goddamn _exasperated_ that he actually snorts in response before clasping his free hand over his mouth. Unimpressed, those sharp eyes narrow, and suddenly pretty boy is looming even closer.

His scent is like a damn rollercoaster: one second, Wade is almost sure of his endotype ( _ **Remember? Mutant? You aren’t going to find one.**_ ) but then it goes from the pungent bitterness of angry Alpha to the sourness of stressed Beta to the heart-wrenching iron of fearful Omega. Wade thinks he’s in love.

The boy scowls, the Alpha scent washing over him in waves. “You’re disgusting.”

“Oops, did I say that out loud?” He laughs nervously, feeling like he’s shrinking beneath the man’s knife-sharp gaze. “Sorry about that. Just comes out! Oh - that sounded dirty-”

Leaning forward, the man puts pressure on Wade’s throat in warning; he almost laughs - he’s just being so damn _gentle_ about it it’s hard not to giggle about it. It hardly hurts and the kid is being careful not to do anything that could possibly cause damage. Instead of applying pressure on his trachea, he’s expertly squeezing to place strain on the arteries instead. He’d be really fucking good in bed; Wade actually has to wonder if he learned how to do this _in_ _bed_. It’s fucking precious.

“You disgust me,” the kid reiterates, voice dripping with venom, and he just barely eases forward to make it difficult for Wade to breathe. “How could you do this?”

Something about his tone makes it sound so _intimate_ \- like Wade has personally hurt this gorgeous boy laid out across his chest, breath steady, eyes vicious. Shame bubbles up in his chest, in his throat, until bitterness reaches his tongue. He swallows hard, fingers twitching around the man’s wrist.

“It was an old picture,” he confesses, voice small. “I’m sorry.”

_**His picture wasn’t real either. If he’s pissy because of that, he’s a hypocrite.** _

“True.”

Stricken, he stares down at Wade as if he’s speaking Greek. “What?”

Squirming, Wade laughs stiffly. “I think… we’re not on the same page here.”

After a tense moment spent studying Wade’s expression, the kid tries to pull his wrist free once more with just a quick jerk ( _Jerk!_ ) to no avail. Wade stubbornly holds on.

“Where are my manners?” he gasps, amused by the little furrow of the boy’s brows. “Hi there! My name is Wade Wilson!” He shakes his wrist eagerly, grinning up at him through the mask. “I’m, like, maybe ten hours from my rut and I’m not sure what’s up with you but damn am I in need of a good fuck.”

The silence that follows is oppressive. Wade wants to continue to babble and rant but the look in those eyes keeps him from saying anything more. Instinct tells him to crack a joke, to lighten the mood, but the almost horrifying lack of guidance from the voices in his head and the _actually_ horrifying severity of this man’s face has him shutting up for once in his life.

“I can’t believe this,” he whispers, and suddenly he looks so much older, world-weary and burdened, that it twists Wade up inside. He’s obviously feeling _guilty_ and it’s really confusing to say the least.

Once more, he tries to pull away, but at this point Wade’s fingers are locked around his wrist and they aren’t going anywhere. Making a rough noise low in his throat, annoyed, the man bows over him, those doe eyes trained on Wade’s own. Even through the leather of his gloves, his breath is warm against his hands; shivers wrack his spine, skin prickling at the back of his neck just from those eyes trailing over his face.

It’s so intense that Wade feels like the kid is looking right through his suit, through his skin, and to his goddamn soul. The vulnerability (yuck) of it has him itching to get out and get the fuck away. There’s a twinge just behind his eyes that tells him he’s really gonna want a bullet in his head before this is all said and done.

“You know,” he begins, voice cracking like a goddamn pre-teen’s, but the boy’s lips part and it’s like all the words die on his tongue.

The voices are gone, and in their place is a throbbing pain. He wants to put a bullet between his own eyes. He feels lost, and maybe a little stupid, but when doesn’t he? At this point, he just wants to get this kid off him so he can retreat and lick his wounds in peace.

The boy doesn’t look away from his eyes even once, forcing the contact to continue even as he lowers his head. Breath caught in his throat, Wade wonders if he could kill himself by holding that breath before - well, before whatever is happening _happens_ because he gets the distinct feeling he’s about to embarrass himself. Just as he thinks he’s garnered enough sense to respond, the man’s brown eyes slide shut, his lips ghosting over his thumb, the touch too light to feel through his glove.

The noise that escapes Wade’s throat is so high and thin that it takes a moment for him to realize he’s the one who made it. He can’t take his eyes off the boy with his long lashes and plush lips and flushed cheeks. Teeth sink into his wrist, and he’s so shocked by the sight of those lips closing around leather that his grip slackens, releases the kid’s arm.

Moving faster than he would have expected of some plain man, he hops up and back out the door before Wade can even think to object. But he must be stupid because he doesn’t leave, instead lingering there, staring down at the other man as if he can’t put his finger on him; it’s a look Wade knows all too well. He’s shaken though, his face a little paler than it was and his lips twisted into a tight frown.

Wavering, he looks down the hall both ways as if considering his options, then back to Wade. “You’re actually Deadpool?” he asks, hesitant as if afraid of the answer.

_**Wait, what now?** _

_He knows us!_

_**Red flag.** _

_That he knows us? That’s not a red flag-_

_**Consider who we are and what we do, idiot.** _

… _Oh, shit. That’s a red flag._

Cautious, Wade sits up but makes no move to stand; he’s still not sure of the boy’s type and the last thing he wants is to piss off another Alpha right now, particularly when he can feel the weak heat of his rut pooling in his abdomen. He’s not really in a position to defend himself, to say the least. So far, he’s held his rut back pretty well but he’s running low on self control after having a handsome man draped across his chest, smelling like sin.

“Yeah, I’m Deadpool. Y’know - Merc with a Mouth, Regeneratin’ Degenerate, resident assassin, sexiest man alive,” he babbles. “And I will gladly use that mouth on you! Pretty boy,” he adds, almost timid, feeling his face grow warm.

_**What are you even thinking?** _

_Cuuute boooy…._

_**Jesus Christ.** _

It’s worth the teasing to see the pink rise to his face and the fluttering of his pulse beneath his pale skin. Pleasure coils in the pit of him, warm and effervescent, and the sight has a smile curling his lips. Wade watches, already enamored, as the man’s expression shifts from disgruntled to begrudgingly and _shyly_ pleased, his lips pressed into a thin line to stifle what’s obviously a smirk and his eyes trained on the wall.

For a moment, Wade is dumbstruck by the boy’s expression before it finally sinks in that _he_ did _that_ and he’s grinning like a goddamn fool. He got this gorgeous-beautiful-sexy stranger to look all flattered and wary and utterly _perfect_. He’d do anything to see that expression over a plate of tacos and those cinnamon things or, even better, while this pretty thing’s clothes are on his floor and he’s tucked in Wade’s _good_ bed - the one in his apartment in Chicago.

He has the prettiest goddamn lips Wade has ever seen, not to mention the tight bod he’s obviously hiding under all those layers. The itch that creeps across his skin as his eyes slide over the boy’s in turn is enough to tell him his rut is definitely kicking in. Even then, it’s hard to give a fuck. He almost misses the boy’s words he’s so caught up in watching the movement of those _lips_.

Sighing, the boy repeats himself, “Are you here because of the attacks?”

Scratching his chin, Wade considers the question - considers those pretty, _pretty_ lips, honestly. So far as he can tell, the only attack here is the one on him. He’s likely forgetting a recent assassination attempt or he missed a bad drug deal downstairs or _something_ but it’s sort of hard to care because holy hell those fucking lips and god what would it be like to kiss them?

He leans back, pursing his own lips as he takes in the hardened look on that young face. He imagines what this gorgeous boy’s lips would look like pursed and pouty, too, which is a mistake because as soon as he does his cock is twitching with interest between his thighs. But that’s nothing compared to thinking about those _lips_ around his dick.

_I think I’m gonna die._

… _**Honestly? Same.**_

“Deadpool?” he snaps, and when he says it Wade feels a little uneasy. Or maybe that’s just indigestion from the _Blair’s Ultra Death Hot Sauce_ he had at lunch.

Finally, he shrugs and says, “Yeeeah. I am. Here because of the attacks, I mean. Who’s askin’?”

With a scoff and a little curl of his lips, the kid steps forward, offering his hand to the other man. Staring at it dumbly, Wade doesn’t dare move. He feels like he’s going to ruin everything if he so much as breathes because a pretty boy just hit him but now he’s sort of smiling lopsidedly and offering to touch him and sweet baby Jesus how’d this even happen?

“I figured you weren’t,” he laughs, but his eyes are warm. After a beat, when Wade doesn’t respond or take the offered hand, the he steps back, hand falling away awkwardly.

He clears his throat. “Right. I’m James. I’m the one who set up that account.”

“No shit!” Wade titters and rocks back. “What’s your real name, sweetcheeks? You look like a Daniel. A Nick? Maybe something cooler like _Xander_.”

“My name is not _Xander_ ,” he says incredulously. “And for now you can just call me James-”

Wade whines, hunching his back dramatically. “But _cuuutie_! I’ll tell you mine!”

“You already did, remember?” he snarks with a wave of his hand. “Did you actually put up that profile?”

_**What’s that supposed to mean?** _

_Something’s amiss!_

_**Yeah, some- Wait, what? Did you really just-** _

_Let me have some fun!_

**Fun** _**doesn’t involve the word “amiss.” What are you? A-** _

_Shut uuup!_

“God, you’re giving me a headache,” Wade growls, tapping his knuckles against his temple roughly.

James snorts. “So, _so_ sorry.”

“What? Oh! Oh no, no, no! I was talking to them!” he explains, pointing to his temple. “The voices!”

He doesn’t bat an eye. “Alright. I’m serious, though, so I’d really appreciate it…” He bends down, resting a hand on the top of his head, eyes searching. Wade goes stiff, ready to hear something condescending or cruel spill from the kid’s lips. “If they’d ease up for a minute and let you think.”

Wade stays stiff because good god the boy’s fingers drift over the side of his face and it sends shivers down his spine even though their skin is separated by leather. The touch is almost cruelly gentle and not at all what he was prepared for and James smells lovely, like soft Omega and protective Alpha and gentle Beta all at once. Wade’s heart can hardly take this treatment.

“Holy shit,” he squeaks, and the boxes are dead silent.

“Huh? Did I make it worse?”

He actually looks _worried_ and Wade thinks he might be hallucinating.

“You aren’t hallucinating.”

“Oh, did I say that out loud, too?”

“Nah, just sort of guessed.”

His smile is lopsided and so, so pretty that Wade thinks his heart is about to fucking quit on him. This can’t possibly be real. He’s too soft, too bizarre, and, most importantly, too good to be true.

James’s face falls into that same exasperated expression from before. “Okay, you said _that_ out loud.”

Wade laughs, manic and strained. “You sure are handling this well!”

James offers his hand again. “I’ve dealt with stranger. Can you help me with this, though?” He pauses, considering Wade, then says, “It would mean a lot to me. Innocent people are getting hurt. It’s not right.”

Wade blinks at him, thinking he sounds a hell of a lot like Spidey, and liking it more than he should. Finally, he grabs his hand in both of his own, his pulse so loud in his ears he can hardly focus on what he’s doing. “Of course. Anything for a man with lips like yours.”

It’s fun to watch the expressions flitting across his face as Wade’s words sink in, and it’s cute when it finally settles on what Wade interprets as “frustratedly exasperated but shy and a little flattered.” He’s probably way off but he can dream.

That mutant strength makes itself known again when James pulls him to his feet with no trouble at all. Standing, it’s clear he has a few inches on the slighter man and he probably has fifty or so pounds to go with it, but he doesn’t think it matters. He looks up at him with sharp eyes, all dark and beautiful and _dangerous_. Wade swoons.

This is going to be fun. So, so much fun.

_**There are so many things wrong with this….** _

_What’s wrong about helping out a man with an ass like that?_

_**He looks like he’s fucking twelve.** _

_He’s fucking_ built _\- there’s no way-_

_**It’s called hyperbole! Look it up!** _

“Hey, how old are you?” Wade asks, trying and failing to sound casual.

James gives him a dull look. “Why? Feeling guilty about ogling my ass?”

Deja vu makes Wade pause. The little quirk to his lips and the way he cocks his head makes him think of Spidey again. It’s pathetic but true.

_**You’re delusional. I can’t believe your ridiculous crush is this bad.** _

Glancing over James once more, he swallows down his unease like he always does, chuckling lowly. “Nah, the voices are, though.”

He honest to god _laughs_ at that - bright and honeyed and fucking beautiful as all hell.

_Oh…._

_**He’s going to fucking** _ **ruin** _**us.** _

Wade thinks he’s okay with that.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, sounding so goddamn sincere that Wade wants to assure him it’s a-okay, hunkydory, but he’s too busy wondering what the hell there is for him to be sorry for. “For hurting you,” he answers, as if he can read his expression even through the mask. “Things have been… tense.”

Wade nods like he totally understands. He doesn’t.

“Want tacos?” The question pops out before he can stop himself and the look James gives him has him shrinking back.

_**Smooth.** _

_Our date isn’t ruined!_

_**This isn’t a date.** _

James leans to the side to peer into Wade’s apartment as if just now realizing this might not be the best idea. He twists his lips, avoiding meeting his eyes. Wade’s heart sinks.

“ _Carne asada_ ,” he singsongs, trying to tempt him, and he does look tempted, his teeth digging into one pretty lip. Still, he shrugs, looking to the side, nostrils flaring, and Wade realizes what’s wrong. He wasn’t apologizing for hurting him, at least not just that, but for speeding up his rut with the adrenalin and conflict. It’s sort of sweet.

“Oh!” Wade says, a little amused. “And- Um, don’t- I’m not going to- I can control myself,” he finally gets out, laughing as he rubs the back of his neck. It’s hard to speak with the kid looking at him so intensely. “To be honest I can’t tell your endotype! But, in case you are an Omega or a Beta, I just want you to know I’m not going to be a dick and use my rut as some sort of excuse to be a bastard. You get what I’m trying to say?”

His eyes soften, the last of his discomfort seeming to slip away. “I get it, yeah.”

He shifts to the side, hoping James will actually come in ( _ **No way.**_ ) and he does, tugging at the edge of his hoodie to straighten it as he goes. It’s fucking precious. Wade is ready to kiss this kid.

“Say, uh, do you mind me asking?” he broaches, sucking in another breath of the man’s scent just because he’s thinking about it; it still reveals nothing.

“Manners,” James growls back, once again all Alpha, but the look he casts in Wade’s direction is amused and soft.

“Goodbye Moonmen,” Wade whispers, slack jawed and staring as James hesitantly wanders into his apartment.

_**This isn’t good - and what the fuck was that reference? Get that fucking mutant out of our apartment before he turns into a raging Alpha-Beta-Omega nightmare and kills us or something.** _

He grins and closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, now we're getting to the good parts. Peter is such a good boy. Bet he's pretty thankful he actually knows Deadpool right about now.
> 
> I started posting a new fic, [Contrary to Belief,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10045685/chapters/22382939) about these dweebs! If you like this fic, you should definitely check it out! Without giving anything away I can tell you it's more identity porn fun.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@Glimcold](https://glimcold.tumblr.com/) and get early access to my fics and WIP [here!](https://www.patreon.com/glimcold)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You just wanted someone to spend your rut with,” James says, soft. “There’s nothing embarrassing about that.”
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **Shit. He’s sweet….**  
>   
> 
> _I think I’m in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one is even longer than the last??? Who knows. Anyway, sorry this wasn't posted last week. I was in a pretty rough car wreck and I had all sorts of midterms to deal with so here we are.

Part 3

In the apartment, the space so closed and tight it’s hard to avoid the sharp scent of James. Wade’s not one for avoiding any kind of pleasure so he doesn’t even try, he doubts he could even if he wanted to. He can’t stop himself from taking deeper and deeper breaths as if trying to chase after the boy’s sweetness. With his rut approaching, helped along by the threat of an Alpha or whatever he is and their little scrabble earlier, it’s as if his senses awaken, allowing him to smell the boy from across the room.

Luckily, it’s not difficult to suppress his desire though it stirs in his abdomen with each pass of the musk over his tongue. The mask makes it difficult to catch James’ scent properly, but it’s still there beneath that of his own sweat and the fading adrenaline that seems to taint the air, soured by stress but attractive nonetheless.

Earthy beneath that sharpness, James’s natural scent, something that seems a blend of all endotypes with no clear marker, has Wade’s throat tightening. The softness of soap on his skin tells him he just washed and when he’s close enough he can catch the scent of his deodorant, too, all heavy and nice.

Wade wants to press his face to the boy’s skin and take in deep, desperate breaths of it. Wants to drag his nose over his throat, along his collarbone, and cuddle between his thighs. He’s willing to bet his cock is pretty and would smell fucking lovely. Bets he’d be demanding and fierce in bed, physical in a way Wade longs for if his strength from before is any clue.

_Pretty and compatible…._

_**Scent doesn’t mean he’s compatible with us. That old wives’ tale is a load of horseshit and everybody knows it.** _

_You’re just a Debbie Downer! And I meant he’d dom us! Gosh!_

_**I’m not a** _ **downer** _**\- I’m just** _ **logical** _**.** _

_Debbie!_

_**It’s logical.** _

_Downer!_

Wade smacks himself in the face, and by the grace of god James doesn’t see it.

James does see everything else, however. The curious little shit seems to scan over the room, obsessing over each detail and stain on the carpet with a curled lip and obvious anxiety. There’s something about his intense attention to detail that tells Wade he’s not just looking around for the sake of it, but he’s searching for weapons and traps and other Alphas hanging around.

The look on his face is one Wade’s familiar with after all of these years, and he supposes he’s earned it considering his reputation and his work. It still particularly stings to see it on a civilian’s face ( _ **He’s a goddamn mutant, not a civilian.**_ ) instead of a “colleague’s.” James looks at him with sharp, accusatory eyes, and somehow it wounds him more than all the others. He’s beautiful and soft yet fierce and hard; Wade feels like he would crumble beneath his touch were he to reach out.

Despite the assumptions, almost all of the dark shadows of blood marking the carpet are from Wade’s own wounds. Many times, he’s had to trudge home before letting himself die on this carpet, shot himself in the knee when the pain of his skin grew too great, or laid down to blow his brains out just to get the noise to stop. The only blood from others gets there when idiots try to break in and assassinate him. Last time he checked, society was still considering self defense as an acceptable excuse for murder, but who knows what’s what anymore.

_**Yep, you’re officially one sad sack of shit. A sad sack of shit who’s incapable of engaging with others, apparently.** _

Then James turns and takes one look at the coffee table and huffs out a laugh that has Wade’s ears burning.

_**Dumb fuck.** _

He watches helplessly as James approaches the little set up, eyes scanning over the takeout and settling firmly on the rose. He makes no move to sit, instead leaning down to take the rose from the can, twirling it between his fingertips. The scent of content Beta fills the room and he flushes darker still, his face flaming beneath the mask.

Despite his attempts to reign it in, he can’t stop the rush of pride that fills his chest - or the heavy scent of his rut that’s thick in the air. James jerks his head in his direction, eyes narrowed accusingly. With a nervous smile and a weak shrug, Wade tries to make it clear he was telling the truth, he’s not about to jump this kid’s bones ( _Or bone him._ ). Amazingly, it seems to work, the boy’s face softening as he turns back to the rose.

“You really were just trying to get a partner for your rut,” James mutters, a little awed. It’s not a question. “Um, sorry,” he tacks on, rubbing just beneath his ear as if he can stifle the scent permeating the room; it only makes it all the worse. “I- This is embarrassing.”

“What? Nothin’ wrong with liking it, right?” he mutters, shifting from foot to foot. “I won’t hold it against you if you promise to do the same for me. Pretty… embarrassing situation….”

James looks at him with those pretty, gentle brown eyes turn on him, raking over him. He feels vulnerable and shitty and stupid. Despite it, and the anxiety drawing tight in his belly, he likes it.

“You just wanted someone to spend your rut with,” James says, soft. “There’s nothing embarrassing about that.”

_**Shit. He’s sweet….** _

_I think I’m in love._

Wade clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Right, so, attacks?”

He looks up, almost surprised, then to the rose. He drops it back into the can as if he can’t get rid of it fast enough. “Yeah, attacks. It’s a new trend on those sites. Alphas have been posting fake profiles - ones that are meant to lure in Betas and Omegas with certain preferences-”

“Oh?” he hums, finally comfortable enough to move closer. In truth, he doesn’t really give a fuck about whatever attacks are happening but he’ll listen as long as the words are coming from those sweet lips. So, for James’s sake, he nods along, feigning interest, and stifles the boxes.

“Yeah, like _yours_ for instance.” His tone is surprisingly light - joking rather than accusatory. “ _Please, oh please_ -”

Wade snorts. “Right, that. You mean like Alphas that like to submit and Omegas that wanna dom ‘em?”

“Well, yeah, but not just that. Can I see your computer? I can show you,” he offers as explanation, shrugging.

Grabbing it from the counter, Wade moves to sit on the couch, patting the space next to him. The kid moves around the table and settles into the spot, tucking his feet beneath him. He makes himself right at home, suddenly so comfortable Wade feels a little dizzy - not to mention confused because it’s too good to be true. Before he can say anything about it, James is looking at him expectantly and eagerly reaching for the computer.

Handing it over with little fuss, he watches the boy’s expression shift as he sees the background, amusement plain on his face. “Captain America?” he questions, lips quirked and eyes bright.

“Captain America.”

James pauses, then confides, “Mine’s Stark.”

Wade’s laugh is booming.

James shakes his head, cheeks pink, and opens the browser, pulling up the _Heat Matcher_ site. “Right, so this is one of the most popular sites of this kind, and it’s honestly pretty… classy compared to the others. With that said, despite the stricter rules of conduct, these guys are all over it. Fake profiles generally….” He pauses, tongue caught between his teeth as his fingers skitter over the keyboard. “Fake profiles generally consist of explicit sexual statements while the real ones are more subtle.”

He turns the computer so Wade can see what he’s pulled up.

**Mike Becker: 27 / M / A / Bi - Looking for a good time. Prefer to take. Wanna ride some Beta dick.**

Whistling at the profile pic, he leans back to give James a look. “I’m just saying he can ride my-”

“Wade,” he interjects, voice dull. “It’s fake.”

“Oh, right- Wait, how can you be sure? I mean, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Maybe a guy really does wanna ride that disco stick. Not all Alphas are Alpha material, y’know? Gotta prostate like a switch myself. Be a goddamn waste not to use it.” Wade turns to meet the man’s eyes and stiffens, feeling like a fool. “Uh….”

_**Fucking idiot.** _

James cuts his eyes away; he’s trying not to grin and failing miserably which is pretty fucking cute. “TMI, buddy,” he scolds, but he just called Wade _buddy_ and it doesn’t get much cuter than that. “First of all, he specifies Betas.”

“Don’t most?” Wade asks, grumbling because he wants to just go back to that whole _buddy_ thing and call it a day.

“Nope. Also, it’s pretty blatantly fetishistic. No reason to need a Beta if you’re catching and they’re pitching, right? Means he gets off on the thought of a Beta taking him-”

“So do I.”

“Something tells me you get off on the thought of _anyone_ taking you.”

“Shit, too true.”

_Got us pegged._

“God, I’d die if he got us _actually_ pegged.”

_**I’m not going to respond to that.** _

His laugh is hitching and awkward in the best of ways; little nerd even snorts. “Okay, okay - the point is, these people ask for this and-and then….” James fumbles in his pocket, finally withdrawing a wallet he pointedly turns away from Wade so he can’t see what’s inside, then pulls out a flash drive. Plugging it into Wade’s computer, he hesitates.

There’s only one folder on the drive, something titled “J” as if there’s nothing better to name it. Unease prickles at the base of his spine so he scratches it away and pops his back, scooting closer to James.

_**Real smooth.** _

_Put your arm around him! He needs to be reassured by our manly arms!_

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Wade moves to slip his arm around the man’s shoulders, then freezes. James peeks at him out of the corner of his eye, curious, teeth harsh against his bottom lip. Poor thing has been worried about Alphas, having one come on hard and heavy would only make shit worse. Looking away when James raises an eyebrow, Wade pats his back instead.

_**Very smooth. The smoothest.** _

With a hiccuping laugh, James covers his mouth and looks away once more. “Sorry. It’s really not- I shouldn’t be laughing right now. You just-” He cuts himself off, looking at the screen with an intensity that has Wade peering to see if something has suddenly opened - like his porn or something worse. Nothing is there, which only makes him more suspicious.

“I’m a funny, little man?”

James looks at him, finally, and he smiles darkly. “I was going to say you’ve made me relax for the first time since I got chest-deep in this shit.”

_**Red. Fucking. Flag.** _

_No! No, that’s sweet!_

_**He’s trying to make us comfortable. Trying to fucking** _ **woo** _**us. Get us around his grimy, littler, nerd fingers. And it’s fucking** _ **working** _**because you’re both idiots!** _

“Aw, sweetiepie, that’s real cute,” Wade sings, trying to stifle White. “Not really sure why a big, masked Alpha would comfort you but….”

James seems to consider this, chewing on the inside of his lip so they purse cutely. It’s hard to stay logical and detached when those pretty pink lips are flushed and plump.

_They say a person’s lips are the same color as their cock!_

“Sweet jesus.” He has to shift, spreading his thighs before thinking better of it and closing them up. James doesn’t notice, thank Thor and Loki and whatever other powers that may be.

Leaning back, tongue flickering across his lips, James looks at him. His gaze is unwavering and Wade finds himself wriggling around even more. He swallows, then sighs, admitting, “I’ve heard of you. Just like I said. I know you’re not a bad guy.”

“You seemed to think I was a bad guy when we first met.”

Brow furrowing, James bursts out, “Well, _obviously_.”

Laughter spilling over, Wade clasps a hand over his mouth and tries to keep it in but it just keeps coming, especially when James’s face softens and his cheeks pinken.

“I was wary,” he tries to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. Wade can’t take his eyes away from the sight of his lithe fingers in his hair. “I thought you were luring people here to rape. I know you’re a good guy but… I also know you’re a bad guy. I guess?”

Wade snorts.

“Listen, the point is this is really terrible and I shouldn’t be laughing.”

Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Wade does his best to put on his big boy pants and stay serious. “Alright, alright. No more laughter. None of that-”

“Shut up,” he huffs, smirking, but his expression quickly falls. “I can’t show you this- Not like that, I mean.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

“Aw, shit, baby. If you want I can look alone-”

“No,” he barks, his voice reed-thin and suddenly Wade is all too aware that this is a stranger he invited into his apartment and things really shouldn’t be this hunky-dory. Before he can get suspicious with the author, James’s expression shifts to embarrassed discomfort, for which said author is thankful. “Sorry,” he repeats. “It’s been a really long day.”

Wade stays quiet, simply watching as he opens the only folder on the drive then the photos within it.

_Jesus!_

_**This is… not what I expected.** _

Wade silently nods in agreement, his jaw tightening as he looks at the boy with new interest. His face is just as hard, his eyes cold; he looks like he’s bearing the weight of the goddamn world. Looking back to the images, Wade slowly reaches out, in part afraid to spook the boy, and clicks through them.

The first is a hasty, blurry image of blood spilling from a split lip and smeared across a frail face, wet with tears. The eyes are masked by a black bar, as if that one feature can protect the identity of the victim. It’s taken so messily it makes Wade question if they were still in the presence of the attacker when these were captured. There’s something haunting about it, with broken glass behind them, strewn across the floor.

The next is just as stark, the man faced to the side to allow the photographer to capture pictures of the bites so fiercely marked across his neck, and along his bones. James shifts to cover his eyes, clicking through to the next photograph. This one is a shadowed, shaky image of the man’s spine and the cigarette burns lining his ribs.

“ _Motherfuck_ ,” Wade hisses, skin crawling along his own spine in sympathy. James is silent by his side.

Wade feels nauseous as the images suddenly shift to clinically cold photographs of the man now cleaned up, in a bathroom, his wrists held out so the photographer can capture images of the bruises around them. There are fingerprints on his thighs, alongside bites so deep they’ve had to be sewed shut. Or maybe they’re from a knife digging into the lines left by teeth.

With that thought, he quickly clicks forward to the next, a more natural picture of the man, eyes again blocked out, but a sad smile curving his lips. Wade’s not sure the purpose of this photo, looking to James for guidance. He looks so tired and worn it’s hard to remember if this kid really looked like a nineteen year old just a few minutes ago.

“Your friend?” Wade asks, voice hollow.

“A stranger, actually.” After a moment, he tacks on, “Consider him a friend now.”

Continuing, Wade sucks in a breath when they reach photos of the man’s thin chest, purpled and burned, then his ass, littered with bruises in the shape of hands, and then he stops, unwilling to continue. He knows where this is going and he simply can’t take it, not with his stomach roiling and his hands slick.

“They tortured him,” he accuses, voice sharp.

James remains quiet, his eyes cast away. Wade draws back, a cold dread building in his stomach. “They do this to you?” he whispers.

“No, but it-it very easily could have been me,” he chokes out, suddenly back to looking so young and so small.

_God…. I want to protect him._

_**That’s the problem.** _

Pushing his anxiety to the back of his mind, Wade leans closer, reaching out to touch his back again despite his better judgement. James is warm like an Alpha, and when he looks up at Wade it’s clear he’s grateful for the touch. “Y’know what I do, don’t you? You know I’ll kill them if you want me to.”

Alarmed, James looks at him with big, lost eyes, that furrow returning to his brows. “I thought you didn’t kill anymore.”

_**Something’s up with this. I vote we break the fourth wall and figure out what’s going on before continuing.** _

_Seconded!_

“Third-ed-ed,” Wade chimes in, and James looks alarmed. “Sorry, voices. But, yeah, I don’t kill. For Spidey, y’know? Love that kid. Gotta be a man worthy of him. But, y’know, pretty sure Spidey deserves a man that takes care of rapists.”

James touches his arm, lips curling into a tired smile. “No, I don’t want you to kill anyone for me, okay?”

Wade considers him for a moment, then considers the option of breaking the wall now. “Did’ya come here on purpose? To find me?”

He shakes his head, and Wade believes him; it’s a fanfiction after all. “Was just chance. Really, really fucked up chance.”

Grinning, Wade covers his hand, his fingers still gently splayed on his forearm. “Why…. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that’s verging on romantic.”

Smile sharpening, James pinches his arm until he yelps then turns back to the computer, removing his flash drive. “So, wanna help?”

_**Break the wall. Something’s up. If you don’t do it, I will.** _

_Yeah - he totally came here on purpose._

“Nah, he didn’t,” Wade insists. “It’s just the author playing god.”

James quirks his brow. “You alright?”

“Yeah! Fine! Great!” he sings, leaning closer. “So, you want me to be your muscle?”

“You think I need muscle?” he teases.

“Oh-ho-ho! No, no, no! I know you don’t need nobody, baby boy! But I don’t want a pretty thing like you getting hurt!” As lighthearted as he’s trying to sound, those images are seared into his mind. The thought of letting this kid go on and continue barging into apartments, placing himself in harm’s way, has a weight settling on his shoulders unlike any other. He’s not one for police, but he finds himself asking, “What about the cops?”

James’s expression darkens. “Telling Alphas that an Omega during heat didn’t want to be fucked by another Alpha doesn’t typically go over well, especially when they realize that Omega,” he swallows down his repulsion, eyes closed, “knew he was meeting a man.”

It’s like ice is running through his veins, tightening his chest and filling him with a heaviness he can’t shake. He moves to embrace James - James who has gone pale, his face haunted and gaunt, fists pressed to his thigh as if he can will himself to stay calm, to stop the slight tremble there - his arm shifting to brush his, but he hesitates. James looks up at him, those eyes searching, nose flaring as he takes in Wade’s scent, and Wade feels like a fucking puppy.

Taking a deep breath, he shifts, trying to stay out of his space. Wary, he asks, “Did they hurt you?”

Much to his relief, James quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. But so many others can’t and I just- I refuse to stand by while this happens.”

There’s a fire in his eyes that makes Wade feel a little breathless, and Yellow croons incessantly. _Just like him! Just like our baby!_

“A little hero,” Wade agrees, and it has James turning pink from his throat to his ears.

“What? No- No, I’m really not.”

“Oh, _honey_ ….” James looks alarmed by the sudden tenderness of his voice, his jaw twitching. Wade wants to kiss the spot just over his jaw, feel how it shifts. His damn rut is talking and he knows it. “You’re not allowed to attack unsuspecting Alphas about to get their dicks wet anymore. At least not without me around.”

Relaxing, his shoulders, Peter glances away. Focusing on the food in front of them, he laughs, disbelieving and sweet. “Didn’t think this was going to happen.” Turning to Wade, he smiles sadly. “Sorry again.”

_**Hold up. There are plot holes for miles here. The author is going to fuck us over. I’m breaking the wall.** _

“Wait, wait, wait!” Wade insists, nearly jumping off the couch. He knows something is going on, but he doesn’t _care_. There’s a cute boy on his couch and he doesn’t care if he has no endotype and he’s here because he was ready to beat the shit out of a rapist or something, he’s _happy_. “Let me have this! Just another minute! It’s a fanfiction, you can spare it!”

“What? Are you okay?”

“No! Nothing! Just-”

“The voices?”

“Yeah! Them! The fucking assholes!”

James looks confused but otherwise unbothered, unlike most people.

_**Peter Parker?** _

_Aw! We can alliterate together! WWW and PP!_

_**Please don’t ever say PP again.** _

Slumping back into his seat, Wade sighs heavily, content to have that messy business over with. White didn’t find out anything bad, didn’t yell, just a cute name for a cuter boy. His relief his almost disgustingly sweet on his tongue.

“Wade?” James - no, _Peter_ says, not too concerned, just curious; it’s oddly pacifying, and Wade can’t really describe it. “You alright?” he says, this pretty little grin curling his lips. “C’mon, you said we could eat these, yeah?” _Peter_ says, motioning to the food in front of them. “I may not be able to help with your rut, but at least I can give you some company until it starts, right?”

_He’s so sweet…._

_**He wants a free meal and some muscle.** _

“Baby boy don’t need no muscle,” Wade says dreamily.

Peter laughs, pretty and pitchy, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes. You said _carne asada_? Don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

Gasping, Wade is suddenly all over the table, opening styrofoam boxes and babbling about this and that and “What a shame! You have to have it now!” All the while, Peter’s perfect laugh keeps him flushed and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started posting a new spideypool fic, [Contrary to Belief](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10045685/chapters/22382939), and some [Voltron stuff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10341564) so if you like my work maybe check it out!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@glimcold](https://glimcold.tumblr.com/) and get early access to my fics the alternate ending of this chapter [here!](https://www.patreon.com/glimcold)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and comments to support the work!


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